The Story of Morning and Evening
by Legends Storyteller
Summary: The story of Life is the most twisted of all; it begins with cries, and may very well end with cries to. But each character of this story has their own. Now, before taking a step in the story of tomorrow, you might want to look at the snatches from yesterday. Come closer and watch the story of the Twelve Characters.


**I greet each one of those who stopped by to take a look at this. This One-Shot is actually a trailer for my upcoming fan serie on RWBY, which is still in preparation for a good time. This is gonna be a really big serie; to give you an idea the number of Ocs planned for now is exactly 68 (some important, other less). **

**Anyway, this trailer takes the shape of 11 fragments of life, one for each (or almost) of the protagonist. Those fragments will be in chronological order, going from a birth to the actual beggining of the serie. Enjoy and comment! ~Legends Storyteller**

**P.S: It's a One-Shot but I'll make a second «chapter» to answer the possible questions.**

* * *

**The Story of Morning and Evening**

The Two Sides of a Coin

It was early in the morning. Everything was dark out there. It was a time for rest. Even so, not everyone could rest for this important moment.

"Come on, push! Be brave it's almost done!"

It was a hospital room. Or more exactly a maternity room. It was like all rooms in an hospital: plain white wall, weird stuff all around and people hurrying around. It definitely was the strangest place for giving life.

"One's out! I can see the second's head! Push!"And shouts with that. These weren't shouts of anger nor shouts of fear, but cheerings. The other thing that could be heard was a scream. It was a painful scream as if one was being torn off.

"They're both out! Quick, give me the scissors!"

Two noise of cutting. And suddenly, two new cries resonnated in the white room. The precedents shouts and screams were gone. Only the two cries could be heard. Two heathy cries, full of a new strength, a new life!

These were the cries of two beautiful but fragile little girls.

"You've done well, miss. They're just here."

On the bed, a woman with long black hair and deep purple eyes was covered in sweat. It had been the greatest effort in her whole life, but she had been rewarded with a great treasure for it. She was holding one newborn in each arm, smiling widely for this achievement.

But it wasn't meant to last.

VLAM

The door of the maternity room opened violently. A tall man with dark skin and hair entered the room like a whirlwind.

It should have been a touching moment. This man who entered the room should have been crying tears of joy at the side of the woman he married.

However...

"I know everything!" The man's voice was strong, filled with anger.

The woman glared confusely at him, but she quickly understood what he meant. When she did, her eyes opened wide out of fear.

"All this time... all this time, when I wasn't looking, you've been with an other man!"

The doctor gave a crushed look at the man. He should be scolding him for shouting at a woman who had just given birth in an hospital.

But he couldn't. Having worked in this hopital for a long time, he had seen many tragedies. Babies coming out dead from their mother's womb; Woman dying after giving birth; sometimes even both! But he had never imagined he would behold such an disastrous scene.

This moment of happiness had vanished to leave its place to an awkward silence.

"I-"

"I won't listen to you! I don't ever want to heard about you! I'm leaving for good."

The man raised his left hand to show the emptiness where a ring should have been. He didn't even approach the woman. He turned his back and left the room.

But before doing so, he stopped at the door and gave a hateful glare over his shoulder.

"And I guess those children aren't even mine." After delivering his final blow, he left.

In her bed, the woman looked like a ghost. It may actually be the god word to describe her.

Her paradise had turned into an hell.

Her rewards in her arms turned into a punishment.

* * *

The Challenged Talentless

This boy was a genius.

It was a quite simple statement but so meaningful. Talent would of course attract curiosity and praises from others. It was only natural; after all, genius like him were those who made innovations, changed the world and had infinite possibilities.

That's how it was. All those persons were gathered around him, smiling and exclaiming. They truly were filled with wonder.

"Impressive! How can a little boy like you solve this equation!?" Said the famous scientist.

"No secret seems to escape your eyes!" Said the marvelous painter.

"What do you think should be done to settle this?" Said the skillful carpenter.

And the boy would answer them. It was normal for him: he was a genius, someone with talent! And his parents would pat his head, compliment him, give him all their love. Everyone should be happy.

(Why don't they see me?)

The redheaded little girl could only watch him from afar. Through the door of the living room, she watched all of them, but their smiles and their praises were not for her.

(Why don't you pat my head to? Why don't you look warmly at me?)

The burgundy-haired little boy was the genius, the perfect child. The scarlet-haired girl was the failure, the worthless one. Whenever she challenged him, she ended up losing. Everytime he had better marks than her at school, he overshadowed her. Everytime he would argue about a complex subject with their parents, she became more quiet because she didn't understand. Everytime he achieved some feat, he highlighted her inability.

The girl slowly walked away. Even in this great house, her own home, she felt meaningless. Even the portraits on the wall seemed to be laughing at her. She dragged her feet along the corridors. If one had seen her at this moment they would think of hurted little animal. But it was even worse than that.

She finally arrived at the workshop. It was a huge place. Gears and tool covered the walls; machines and pieces of engine were lying around without set logic; a smell of oil floatted in the air. It was a place she used to like, before her father stared treating her as talentless. She used to look at him working while he say things she didn't understand. He was a lovely father.

In this giant place, she found it. It was a small object which looked like a timepiece. She took a spanner and othert tools lying around. Slowly, consideratly, she made some modifications; she adjusted a gear; she stuck together a bunch of wires.

Half an hour later, she locked the lid and tried to activate it. It worked! The clockwises were moving at the timed speed. She had finallly made it! She-

"!"

The clock explosed in her hands.

Surprised, she flinched and fell backward. Her hands were all red and covered in burnings but she didn't care.

She shook but not because of the pain.

Slowly, tears fell from her eyes. She sniffed a couple of time and then burst into tears.

Why!? Why couldn't she manage to at least achieve one thing!? Why does she always fail whatever the amount of efforts she provided!?

She kept on crying, leaning her head against the ground. Soon, her father will enter and shout at her. Not because she hurt herself but because he had forbidden her from entering.

* * *

The Cursed Strength

A green hill; an emerald forest; a bright sun; a hot summer day.

The setting really was wonderful. It was the kind of beautiful day that make you want to go out and profit of the weather before the arrival of summer storms.

Yet, in this scenery, two elements felt out of place.

The first one was a boy standing on the hill and gazing at the scene in front of him. He would have been a perfectly normal boy if not for his dreadful appearance.

His long dark brown hair were in such a mess a professional hairdresser would faint looking at it; his body was barely covered by pieces of clothes and his skin was covered in scratches.

It looked like this kid just lived a year into the wild like a savage. Actually it's quite accurate a statement.

His eyes were wide-opened as he was staring at the bottom of the hill.

Down there was the second strange element: the destroyed village.

The boy quietly walked down the hill to get just in front of the remnants of civilization. All around the ruins, fragments of wood and stone proved that there used to be a wall protecting the village. It was destroyed now anyway, just like the rest of the village. All over the area all he could see were the masses of rubble and the trampled ground. All the corpses were probably removed after the massacre but there were clear marks of blood on the ground.

Slowly, as the boy contemplated the desastrous scene, tears slowly ran down to go wet a smashed wooden gate.

He was crying. But why?

Why would he cry for this place being destroyed? He didn't have any good memories remaining here.

Why would he cry for those who died here of lost their home? They hated him; they threw rocks him when they saw him in the streets; they hit him while everyone else ignored his plea; even he eventually grew to hate them in return.

That was why he fled. That was why he promised he'd come back to take revenge on all of them. That was why he came back only to find the place ravaged.

Given the marks of claw and of fangs on the wooden planks, Grimms were the responsible of this nightmarish shamble. He should be thankful to them.

Oh? It seems there also had been fires here and there.

The roots of all his hate had been served.

So why was he sad? Why was he terrified by this sad spectacle? He had already seen just how fierced and rageful the Grimms could be. He even had to fight their aggressiveness more than one time.

But the boy had just realized by looking at remaining pieces of what had been a village-

(These walls protecting the village from all harm.)

He himself desroyed them once simply by clumsily tripping over a rock.

(This wooden wall.)

It was the wall of what had been his "home". He broke it when his sister woke him up by shouting.

(This fountain.)

It was the fountain that used to be in the middle of the village square. Once, when he was being bullied, he tried to fight back and almost killed his persecutors.

Even when he fled from this village he smashed the gates and several Grimms could enter.

So that was what they saw?! Everytime they looked at him, they feared that destruction he was quietly watching now?!

The boy fell to his knee, the tears pouring from his eyes like a river.

In the end, if it hadn't been the Grimms, he would have been the one to destroy everything.

"Hey!" A voice suddenly rang out from afar.

When he looked in the direction it came from, he saw a middle aged man walking in his direction. Was he one of the survivors, if survivors there were? He couldn't recognize him. He probably could recognize the boy either, if he ever knew him.

"Don't come..." The boy whispered.

No more of that.

"DON'T GET NEAR MEEEEE!"

The boy hit the ground with both his fists at once and shouted as the ground violently shook and cracked open.

* * *

The Restless Grasshopper

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

The girl charged forward. In each hand she was holding a one-meter long stick.

"Useless!"

The woman with a blue ponytail simply repelled her with a kick in the guts.

"It's useless to blindly charge at your opponent like that! Use your brain! And how do you hope using those two stick at the same time when you already have trouble with one !?"

The green-haired little girl had a hard time standing up, but she didn't complain nor showed any sign of giving up. They were in a poor substitute of a dojo: this place was one of the most dirty they knew and the random material laying against the walls was taking most of the place.

Even so, none of them complained.

The girl stood up and held tightly the sticks in her hands. Once a again, she simply charged forward while yelling.

"I already told you it was useless!"

This time, the woman hit the girl's head with her elbow. But the girl, instead of falling or fainting, greeted her teeth and hit as hard as she could with her stick at the woman's crotch.

"..." But the woman didn't waver. "Why did you hit here instead of my stomach or my head!?"

"Because it's a one-touch down spot!"

"Stop spating out your bullshit!"

The woman violently chopped the gril's head.

000

Later, the two of them were sitting on a bench. The little girl had a large band aid on her forehead but she looked just fine.

The woman tilted her head backward and let out a long sigh. She then looked at the girl happily eating a croissant next to her. How long has it been since they met? Six month? A year?

She wasn't sure. The time they spent together and even the circumstances of their meeting seemed really far off.

"Seriously." She let out an other sigh. "Why don't you spend more time with your family rather than me? Don't you have a little brother?"

The girl stopped eating; she actually stopped smiling to. Each time her family was mentioned it was the same.

"I..."

She tried to start her sentence but gave up, apparently still lost in her thought.

...

...

After a moment, she raised her head and opened her mouth.

"They're very kind with me but..."

Another silence.

"... it isn't to them."

"What?"

"I made a promise, but not to them."

"A promise?" The woman stopped to think. "And what does it have to do with me? Why do you always want to fight with me?"

The girl looked at her with a look of admiration mixed up with some envy. With her child face, it was a pretty cute stare.

"Because you're strong! You're the strongest so if I beat you it'll mean I'm the strongest!"

After hearing those words the woman frantically laughed out loud. The little girl seemed confused.

"What?! What?! Did I say something funny?"

The woman calmed down and patted the girl's green head.

"I'm not the strongest. I don't know what put that in your mind but there're lot of people way stronger than me."

"Really!?"

"Yes but not you."

"Hey!"

It really was strange for them to simply chatter like that without knowing anything of each other. But it was also a comfortable feeling, as if there was no reason to worry about anything.

The woman let a benevolent smile appear on her face.

"I don't know who you promised to become strong to, but I guess it must be someone important to you. You're always more motivated when it comes to fighting with me."

The girl's smile disappeared.

"I loved him a lot. But I couldn't do anything. I was weak."

"?"

The woman didn't know what the girl was talking about, but it certainly was something painful. She leaned her head backward once again and watched the sky. This blue space always seemed so boundless to her, so unreachable; as if she will never be able of anything but watching it. Was it how this girl felt each time they fought? If so, she was already stronger than her, somehow; she didn't let herself desesperate.

"Have you ever think about becoming a Huntress?" The woman asked.

"A Huntress..."

The girl had mentioned it a few time so she assumed she knew about it.

"There are schools where they learn you how to fight in order to form new Huntsmen. Have you ever heard of Beacon Academy? It's one a the best there are."

"Did you go there?"

"Yes... Well at least I tried. In any case, if you want to fight powerful people, that's where you should go."

"I don't need that."

"?"

When the woman glanced quizzically at the girl, the latter showed off a huge smile on her face.

"I want to be strong just like you! Look!"

The little girl took a small object out of her pocket: it was a dark red ribbon.

"Mh? Isn't that the ribbon I lost? It was you who stole it?!"

"Look!"

The girl lifted her long dark green hair and tied them together in a ponytail.

"Here! Just like you!"

The woman opened her eyes wide and then chuckled.

"Haha! If you think it's enough to beat me, get ready to have your cute little ass kicked!"

"I'll show you I can be stronger than you!"

The woman smiled widely at the little girl.

"I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

The Tragedy Writer

Even in great cities like Vale, there always are back alleys; places where the laws didn't operate. People would call these the [darkness] of a city; in a way they're right, it was something they couldn't see through. But when you think about it, even those involved in the darkness couldn't always see through. All they could do was searching for a way to get out of these.

But in that case, who was the darkness?

000

In the alley covered by the night, the two men faced each other.

"I can't fucking believe it, Oxin." Mercredi had anger writen all over his face. His voice was one of a furious beast.

"After what you did, you damn moleskin. I'm gonna make you pay for what happened to Lily and Bersi!" But Oxin wasn't any different from his old comrade.

"Don't you dare talk about them! After you send that letter to the police, all of us are wanted! How could you do that to them?!"

"It's useless." Oxin drew a knife from his pocket. "Arguing with you is like talking with a madman. It was the same for the poison in the water stock."

Oxin rushed over Mercredi and aimed for his neck. But the latter was quicker and caught his arm.

Mercredi sent his friend flying to a bin. But Oxin immediatly got up. The two flyed at the other and wrestled on the ground.

At a moment it looked like Mercredi had the upper hand but Oxin managed to get on him and held Mecredi's throat thigthly with his hand.

Oxin's arm were longer than Mercredi's, so it was no use to strangle him back. Instead, Mercredi searched with his hand the knife that fell on the ground. His lips were turning purple when he finally managed to pick it. Immediatly, he stabbed Oxin's chest with all his might.

It didn't take long: when Oxin felt the cold iron piercing through his chest he lost all grip and fell on the back. Mercredi got up and looked at the one he once called friend struggling in agony on the ground.

He couldn't take it.

He started running with all his might to escape his sin.

All that was left was Oxin's dead body, bathed in blood and his eyes still open in stupor.

...

No, someone else was on the scene.

The boy with pink short hair approached the corpse. He looked at it for along time; it was as if he couldn't get his eyes away from the horrible sight.

But his face showed no disgust; it showed no fear; nor did it show any wrath.

His eyes were wide open but a huge creepy smile appeared on his face; his hand was on his chest, as if he was having a heart attack.

As he watched the cold meat heap on the ground, he laughed frenetically.

"Ha... Ha... Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!"

Still laughing his lungs out, he slowly stepped back from Oxin's dead corpse and leaned against the wall.

"Hahahahahahah- He killed him! He killed him- Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!"

It was the best outcome he could expect. No actually, it was even better than everything he could possibly imagine.

"It's the best of stories! It's perfect! It's the epitome of my works!"

It wasn't easy setting up the whole story; nor make the characters moving. But it was a succes! It was the best he could pull out!

...

Or was it?

The boy looked at the knife still stuck in Oxin's chest.

He took it in his hand and stared at it as if he was expecting it to talk.

SWAP

Suddenly, the knife had disappeared from the boy's hand. Instead, what he was holding was a small wooden box of the same size. This box was the one Mercredi always had on him. Inside was a photo of his family- back when they were alive. Normally, this box should be in Mercredi's left pocket. But it was in the boy's hand.

But where was the knife in that case? The answer was simple.

In Mercredi's left pocket, still soaked in blood.

...

It was even better.

So why did the boy feel empty?

The answer still was simple:

"I'm not satisfied yet."

He slowly walked away from the crime scene

"I'm sure I can do even better."

000

[Darkness] are those who manipulate from the shadow; those pulling the strings.

It can take any form: a fallen hero; someone seeking revanche; a woman working for the well-being of her children; a plain evil; or even a child.

What really mattered was those who pulled those string. It isn't as simple as being the darkness -these people made the darkness!

They instaured it in the heart of people and played with them.

But...

If these people can create fear and manipulate other people as puppet, does that mean they are invariably bad?

The boy sat on his bed. He could read on the newspaper the finding of Oxin's dead body and arrest of Mercredi. But strangely, the case wasn't close.

The testimony of the persons imprisoned didn't match, and Mercredi only admitted the murder of Oxin, but nothing involving the rest of the scheme. The police was actually looking for a third party.

It was normal after all, he didn't even understand what happened.

"Crap!"

On his bed, the boy greeted his teeth and threw the paper at the other side of the room.

He wasn't afraid of getting caught.

Nobody would suspect a child to have plotted all this. Even if it was the case, he had prepared eleven alibis to get away.

No, what really angered him was-

"Ah, I didn't think of this. Grr, it's too dumb!"

He stretched out on his bed and looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes.

In the end, it was all for naught if it simply stopped this way.

He sighed. What to do now?

"?"

He heard laughs outside. When he looked through the window, he saw a girl and a boy holding hand. What days was it already? Oh yeah, it was the day of lovers.

He sighed again and looked back at the paper he threw.

...

Looking back at the window, he watched the couple walking away.

"All this story really tired me but I have to practice." He leaned back on his bed. "Since it's the lovers' day, let's write a romance."

* * *

The Sleeping Darkness

It was a dark place.

The roof, the floor and the ceiling were made of stone; The window had bars blocking the way; an uncomfortable bed was hanging at the wall.

It was a jail like the others: an austere reminder of your sins.

Really, how did he end up in there? Oh, that's right. He had done something horrible. To who it was horrible was an other question.

Curled up in a corner of the gloomy jail, the spiky-haired boy blended into the background. It was mostly due to his sickly pale skin and his hair so gray it looked like he had absorbed all the dust in the room.

He was just a slender boy sitting silently, his head between his knees. Yet, nobody would have wanted to share this cell with him. The reason this time would most likely be the blood on his shirt; even after three weeks in this damn jail he still had the same clothes he had on him the first day.

In the end, maybe even the jail keepers were afraid of him.

Anyway, he didn't want to stay here any longer. That's what he thought when he arrived here. However, each time he thought about escaping, something would keep him sat.

It was as if there was a peer pressure on his heart.

Was that what they called sorrow? Sadness? Was he feeling guilty? Preposterous!

If it indeed was guilt, then how was it he still wanted to beat the shit out of someone? To impale the first person passing by?

Indeed, it was a stupid idea. But in that case, what made the choice of escaping so hard. What was it that haunted his nights?

He didn't knew.

CLUNG

"?"

What was this noise? Oh, it's the door of the cell opening. Still, it was the first time it actually happened. When serving his food, the guards usually got it inside across the bars.

"Are you sure, sir?" One of the person outside asked a question in a low voice, as if he didn't want the spiky-haired boy to hear him.

"No, I'm not." The other person answered the first. "But that's what he asked. He promised to make sure he don't do anything dangerous."

"But sir! We can't let this madman get out of here!"

"Of course we can. He's only fourteen."

"But he fucking killed her! I saw the body when I arrived; he stabbed her in the chest with a metal spi. A metal spi!"

"That is no more up to us. Now, it's about time."

What time was it about? It seemed he could go out now. One of the two man entered the cell to stand up right in front of him.

"Hey, little monster, you're free."

He looked up to that authoritarian voice. He's definitly getting out of jail.

He slowly stood up without a word a followed the guard outside. When he took a step out, he felt the great relief of a weight lifted from his shoulders. He tried his best not to attack any of the two jail keepers escorting him.

"You won't just go back to the orphanage though."

He didn't care. He was going out; it meant his sin had been forgiven, at least by one person.

"And registering you into any other one is of course out of the question. None would accept you."

He didn't care either. He may as well live in the street, he had never felt so light.

"But we don't want you to be free in the street."

Is that so? But in that case, why would they free him?

"... Someone decided to adopt you."

He stopped walking.

...

...

It was the best way out of this. He could wander freely and moreover, he would now have a [familly].

He could forget all of this.

...

...

Yet, he stopped walking.

Why? He had been washed from his soil, so why?

A little voice inside him was asking:

[Is it right?]

(Shut up.)

[Can you simply forget about all of this? What about Mar?]

(I won't see Mar ever again. It's been a while he has been adopted. It's him who left her behind.)

[And?]

(And?)

[Does that mean you can whip out your memories like that?]

(Shut up. I have been forgiven.)

[You idiot.]

...

The spiky-haired boy turned around. The guard looked at him quizzically.

"What is it kid? Don't tell me you need to go to the toile-_Ouf!_

The boy threw his clenched fist in the guard's stomach. His comrade immediatly reacted.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!"

He didn't answer him.

He ran. As fast as he could.

He ran but not in direction of the exit.

_He ran in direction of the cells._

[You idiot.]

The little voice inside him repeated.

[You haven't been forgiven by anyone.]

Here! Third one on the left. It was his cell.

[Even if it was the case, it would be the same.]

He really hated it. He had been inside it for three weeks, but he had no emotional bond to it. It smelled worse than toilets; the decoration -or rather the lack of decoration- was awfully plain; he didn't even slept well. So why did he come back here of all place?

[You know why.]

He stopped running. He closed the door behind him and slowly walked to the corner he never left for several weeks. He had even refused to wash himself in order to stay here.

He curled up once more on the ground.

[That's because you haven't forgiven yourself yet.]

He felt like this cell, this corner was his rightful place.

CLANG

He heard the door of the cell opening once more.

But this time, he wouldn't let himself do!

Nobody would make him leave this place!

Someone approached him and tried to bend over him. but as they did, the boy plunged into them.

He was on top of his victim, but he didn't even watch their face; he hammered them with his fist as to beat them to death.

But two large hand caught both of his arms.

"Stop that." A deep man voice came from below him.

But the boy didn't listen to the man. He bared his fangs open and bit him with all his strength. But the man didn't seem to care; he stood up with the head of the boy still hanging to his arm.

"I told you to stop."

All the boy knew, he was thrown against the wall of the cell. The man slowly walked up to him.

"Leave me alone!" The boy let out a desesperate voice. "Don't just forgive me! Leave me alone!"

He felt a warm liquide running on his cheeks from his eyes.

"Just leave me alone."

...

"Don't misunderstand."

"!"

The man was just in front of him as the boy layed on the ground.

"I'm not forgiving you."

Then why?

"And you chould not forgive yourself."

Then why?

"Actually, I wouldn't forgive you if you forgave yourself."

"Then why?"

"Because." The man bended over him as he intended to and _hugged him_. "I know that feel to."

"..."

"I won't forgive myself, neither will you."

"..."

The boy couldn't speak because of the tears flowing on his face.

"But it doesn't mean we have to give up."

The man separated from him but stayed crouched in front of him; he offered him his hand.

"My name's Abwaschen. And from now on, I'll be your father."

* * *

The Smiling Reflection

It was dark.

It was a small room.

How long has she been there? She didn't knew; there was no window to look at the days go by; there was no clock to check the time; there was nothing in this small room.

She looked at herself: her usually pure white skin was covered in bruises and scratches.

(They beat me up everyday.)

A trickle of blood was running from her mouth. Her once white and fluffy fox tail was now stained of black and red and she could feel the pain of a broken bone.

(They toyed with it, mocked it and stamped it.)

A part of her long snow white hair had been pulled and was as dirty as the ground;

(When their fists aren't enough, they also use my hair.)

Her blood red eyes were as empty as her stomach right now.

(They almost never feed me; I'm probably gonna die here.)

On her face however was a huge… _smile?_

Smiling? No, she can't feel the corners of her mouth pulling on her cheeks. She wasn't smiling. So why could she see herself smiling?

It was dark; but it was no problem for her eyes.

It's rare -or impossible- to see your reflection smiling when you aren't. A reflection should only show reality. Ah, but it wasn't really her, maybe that's why.

It was a small empty room; there wasn't any mirror here. Maybe that if she could find one she could see her non-smiling reflection? But she didn't have that. However, she could look at herself and see how bad a state she was in. [They] were sitting curled up in front of each other; [they] were looking into each other's eyes, though they probably couldn't find anything.

What was this non-sens? Mh? Maybe she didn't care in the end. This fake reflection was comforting somehow.

[They] kneeled weakly in front of each other; [they] slowly approached their shaking hands; [they] leaned their foreheads together.

[She] was cold. All she wanted right now was to embrace [herself] and to take refuge in [her] arms. But she couldn't, obviously: a reflection will never be anything more than a reflection; nobody could hug their reflection. It was an image of what was [in front].

[They] pressed their lips against each other's. It was just as cold as the rest. It wasn't even soft. Just cold. She thought, maybe if [they] were to kiss would she get [her] smile.

In the end, it was pointless.

[She] was a reflection while she was a...

_...Faunus..._

That's why she was here.

All this time, she simply thought of it as a game. Ah, reality really was cruel to disillusion her in such a way.

Although she did it so many time; although her experience; taking it as a game had backfired at her. It wasn't a game where it wasn't a problem to fail, as long as she had enough [continues]. It was a Russian roulette where a single mistake meant the end.

That was why she was here now. But why did she have to come here in the first place?

_...Humans..._

It was a human base. Or so was she told. They were her enemies. Or so was she told.

Again, everything up 'till now had just been some kind of game to her. She had to come here to help her side. How was they called already? The [Crocs Blancs]? In the end, it was just a war between...

_...Faunus..._

..._Humans..._

She never really understood; why did they have to make it a war?; was there no other way to resolve their problems?. She wasn't a child anymore but in way, she was still a little girl who likes playing and didn't pay enough heed to the world around her.

_...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus… Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus… Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus… Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Faunus...Humans...Daddy?_

She knew why she was here and why she had to be here. But what made her need to be here?

_...Daddy..._

...

...

...

CLANG!

The sudden noise made her jump in surpise. As she did, [she] cracked like an egg. It was what was the worse with reflections: they were fragile.

"Dammit! It has already been a week since we captured her and still no informations?!"

It was a woman voice. She didn't hear it often but she had learnt to fear it when does. Though, the woman never actually came to see her in person.

"It ain't like we ain't been try ma'am. But either she's screaming, either she-"

"Shut up! I'll have to do it myself then."

She heard footsteps getting nearer.

"Hah!"

The woman hit her hard with her foot and forced her to look up on her.

"Where is your base?!"

"Where is your base?!"

"Huh?"

The woman frowned. Surely she didn't expect to be answered back that way.

"I told you ma'am. Either she's screaming, either she just repeat after us. Aside from that she didn't say anything."

"You..." The woman's shoulder shook in fury "You think it's a game?!"

She hit her with all her might in the stomach.

"Cough! You think it's a game?!"

"Stop your crap and tell me already!"

"Argh! Stop your -Cough- crap and tell me alrea -Gah!- dy!"

A game? Maybe it was.

Or maybe that she wasn't a Faunus either. Maybe that she wasn't anything more than an empty shell.

Or rather, a reflection.

A Faunus' reflection.

* * *

The Seeker of Peace

A quiet white room; medical stuff around the bed; the window was wide open, overlooking the sea beyond cliffs. The weather had been perfect for a week and the blue sky showed no hint of changing. With the rumble of the waves far off and the cris of seagull, it was a really calm and restful atmosphere that was reigning inside this room.

But he wasn't calm nor restful.

He was sitting idly on a chair near the window, next to the girl sleeping in the hospital bed. Her long brown hair were spreading on her sheets, almost covering her arm wrapped up in bandages. Not only her arms, but her whole chest and a part of her face, including her eye, were covered by the white fabric.

Aside from that, her expression was serene; she was sleeping peacefully.

From what the doctor told him, she'll escape mainly unharmed; even her eye wasn't lost. He shouldn't be so stressed, given that it would be alright, but even so he couldn't dare to look at her face. The reason he was mournful wasn't her state, but her reaction when she'll wake up. If it wasn't for him, she would be perfectly fine.

What could he say to her? How could he help her to-

"Hey, daydreamer."

He jumped in surprise. Indeed, he looked to the ground for so long that he let his mind wander around. But upon hearing the weak familiar voice, he immediatly bent over the bed.

"How do you feel? Are you feeling alright? Please, tell me you're feeling alright."

"Hey, hey, calm down!" She giggled. But it was a weak chuckle, same for the thin smile on her face. Even after a full night and morning of rest, her look was one of a tired person. "I'm not gonna die so easily. And it isn't that serious to start with."

She chucled again but, after looking at his face, her fragile happy expression vanished. He didn't know what he looked like right now but he'd rather not walk across a mirror.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." She said those words with the most serious tone she could. It seemed to have some effect on him because he sat back on the chair and har features relaxed. But even if he looked less worried, he was actually even more anxious. The way she looked right now, he could hardly tell that she was that fine.

"Now, now, I told you to cheer up, daydreamer! look at me and do the same!" After saying that, a huge smile appeared on her face. She could almost look happy, if he didn't see how forced that smile was. But seeing her so quick to cheer him and so naturally positive, a small smile somehow made his way on his lips.

"You're right, you look pretty energic. Maybe I should take exemple on you in times like that." His own voice sounded exhausted, and for good reason. He stood awake all night to watch over her and already had sleeping problems before that.

"Oh, come on, I told you to cheer up!" A benevolent smile appeared on her face. It was a motherly smile, as usual. Always worrying more for him than for her. "I had a lot of fun last night, at the festival."

She put her hand on his and sayed with the same serious tone as before:

"It wasn't your fault."

"..."

He stood silent for a moment before getting up with his trademark huge smile.

"I know that, don't take me for an idiot! Now, I will not conceal the fact that I need some sleep so, rest and don't worry; the doctor said you will get away unscated."

After that he left the room, closed the door and leaned his back against it.

...

...

...

(It's totally my fault!)

He took his head in his hands. It was him who insisted for her to come with him at the festival. It was him who led her to the quays. If he hadn't done that she wouldn't be wrapped up and sitting in a hospital bed! He had no excuse excepte his naivety.

She knew that but told him it wasn't his fault. He felt like the worst of scums right now.

He sat on one of the chair in the hallway and closed his eyes. His lack of sleep was being felt because he immediatly fell asleep.

000

He woke up with a start without any reason.

By taking a look at his watch he could tell the sun had already set. The whole hospital was silent yet the lights were still turned on. He quicly realized that it was because he fell asleep here that they prefered let them on, in case he'd wake up in the night and would go.

He didn't hesitate and got up to walk to the exit; there probably still was a nurse in the entrance.

He had a bad dream. Or rather a weird dream. Or was it a nostalgic dream? In any case, it gave him food for thought. He had remembered someone he hadn't seen in a long time. Actually, there was two of them, but one of them was no longer with us. He felt like he had the worst lecture in his life. It may actually be the case.

Now that his friend has woke up, he had to think of what he would do from now on. He didn't want to be in front of her again, he didn't feel like he deserved it. On the other hand, he couldn't just lay around waiting for something to happen.

The more he thought about it, the more he walked resolutly to the exit. When he passed in front of the night nurse, he informed him to turn the lights off. And, before leaving, he asked:

"Excuse me, can I leave something for room 26, please."

"Mh? Of course. What is it?"

"Do you have a pen?"

000

It was morning.

More exactly, it was almost noon; but for her, it was morning. The only reason she was allowed to have a lie-in was her hospitalization.

She stretched her arm out and gave a loud yawn. The door of the room opened and she looked at the nurse bringing her breakfast -or rather [hospital breakfast].

She squinched up when she saw that awful soup they were serving. But her stomach was much more honest than her tongue because she quickly dug in.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Niche!" She answered while chewing a piece of bread. Yep, she was definitely feeling pumped up!

"I'll come back later then." The nurse was about to leave when he stopped and turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot. Someone left something for you."

"Something?"

When she opened up the piece of paper the man gave her, she reconized this idiot's handwriting. As she readed the line one by one, her eyebrow furrowed more and more. After she finished reading, she folded up the improvised letter and let out a chuckle.

"Miss?"

"It's okay, daydreamer." She was talking to herself. "I hope you'll find the one you're searching for."

* * *

The Remnant of Pride

"Did you make sure you took a toothbrush?"

"I made sure of it."

"And you didn't forget your papers, did you?"

"I wouldn't be such a fool."

In her little brother room, Arguilla was helping him packing his stuff in the giant green suitcase. It was paining her to watch him going, but it was nothing much than a role reversal with the many times she left the house. This room was extremely luxurious, as the rest of their house; the white walls were covered in paints of which she ignored the authors' name; the floor was carpeted of red; the room itself was incredibly big. An elephant would have fit in there.

"You buttoned your shirt well? You didn't forget Quattro Orizzonti? And make sure not to get lost once you're arrived!"

"Sister! May I ask of you to stop bothering me with these peccadillos?" He took out his pocket watch and checked the time. "I won't forget a thing here. It would be unworthy of me to lack of anything where I am going."

It seemed she was annoying him more than anything; but it was part of her job as a big sister. It was only normal to be worried about him when she remember how hard it had been for her. But she had seen how much he prepared for this very moment. Strangely it was worrying her even more; to see him ready to get away from them.

"More importantly..."

"What, could there be anything more you feel the need to convey me?"

She approached him from behind and jumped on him.

"What do you think you are-!"

She hugged him tightly; so much she thought he would break. She didn't want to let go of him.

"Make sure to pass by from time to time."

"..."

The two of them stood silent, savouring this last time where they could be together for a while. She didn't wanted to break off. Of course, it didn't prevent her from leaving their home without being in touch with them for four years back then. But she will always see this little brother of her as a clumsy kid who needed help.

In the end, it was him who talked.

"Do not worry, sister. I am merely moving where my destiny and my blood call me; like you did yourself long ago".

[Yes, but it wasn't for the same reason] is what she'd have liked to tell him, but now wasn't the moment.

"You're spoiling him to much, Arguilla." A third voice spoke out from the door of the room.

They turned in direction of the newcomer, though they already reconized the voice. In the frame was standing a man in his early twenty with short blond hair and a white tuxedo.

"I do not remember asking you to come see me before my departure, Orsomiele." Her little brother's voice was bitter as he adressed to their older brother.

Arguilla sighed. It hasn't changed. She was the only one in the family he'd call something like [brother] or [sister], aside from their parents. And still, concerning the latters, it was purely by politeness.

"I don't care how you consider us." But as always, Orsomiele payed it no heed. "You're still my little brother. And a little idiot who needs people to look after him."

Arguilla sighed again. She was relieved not to be the only one feeling that way. But it was also confirming her fear; that her little brother wasn't ready yet.

No! She souldn't be thinking that! When she went on her trip, she didn't bother with questions such as [Am I ready for this?], and left without thinking of the consequences. And, little did they know, it might be the easiest way for him to mature a little. Ah, thinking about this made her nostalgic.

As she watched her brothers fighting (in a pretty one-sided way), it remebered her her first day; the way she met with Coralina and the other. They didn't get along immediatly.

But her train of though is interrupted by her little brother raising his voice.

"I do not forget you, in addition to refuting your legacy, to ask me to back away on my decision!"

"Legacy, huh? Remember me who supply the Huntsmen in Dust? Sure you wouldn't like Dust productors like me to stop everything and go fight into a school."

"There are other family loaded with the duty of giving mankind it's weapon. The Schnee stand as an exemple."

"Sigh. I already told you it had nothing to do with traditions." Orsomiele sounded somewhat irritated but Arguilla could discern a thin smile on his face.

Surely, whatever he could say to their idiot of little brother, he was happy all the same that their little [jewel] was finally standing on his own feet and facing a goal.

Today was the day he would move oversea to [accomplish his destiny], as he said. She hoped with all her might that there, in Vale, he would find something to rest onto.

* * *

The Everlasting Silence

The night was one of the darkest ever saw. There were so much clouds in the sky that neither the stars nor the moon were visible; but thanks to the lights in the street, the town was extremely bright. The main street was full of people coming for shopping because tonight was a festive season.

Yet, not all of the streets were bright and colorful. And not everyone was having a good moment. In a dark back alley away from the festivities, a man in his early thirties was running as fast as he could. He was running away.

He was running away though there was nothing behind him.

He didn't knew what he was running away from but he could tell from [who]: the [Silence], Silentium. Or at least that's what he had heard. The person known as Silentium was mainly made of rumors on COBWEB, and a pseudonym. He never worked with anyone, an none of his prey were still here to brag about it. In the past, rumors said he was dead. But the person who kept killing for money under this name sure was alive and he was after his head.

But, given this lack of informations, how did he reconize his invisible pursuer?

The reason was simple: _there was no sounds_.

He couldn't talk.

He couldn't hear.

That combined with the dark atmosphere of the place made him feel like if he was in a nightmare. He was now short of breath but didn't want to stop running. But as he was running into an other alley, he stumbled.

More exactly, something struck his foot. Feeling a great pain from the said foot, he took a look a it only to realize that a hot liquide was flowing from it. He had been shot. Silentium had merely shot his foot to unable him from running away. But with such precision he could have simply shoot him in the head. The man understood with dismay that he was playing with him.

As he was thinking that he noticed that someone was aproaching him. It was a teenager but he couldn't discern his features because of the lack of light. He was holding something in his hand: _it was a bardiche_. The one who he presumed was Silentium slowly rose his weapon above his head with both of his hands and swang it swiftly.

No cries. No noises. This was Silentium.

000

The main street was now empty and the lights had faded to give way to darkness. Alone in the night, a tall figure was walking slowly, its footstep resounding in the void-filled street.

This shadow was a tall teenager with very short dark blue hair and wearing a large coat of the same color; on his head was an orange and baby blue audio headset; the bottom of his face was covered by a blue scarf.

On his back, a long object was wrapped up in a black tissue. Only he knew it but it was a dark blue sniper. It was his weapon. The boy walking on the way home like anyone after a working day was actually a renowned and feared bounty hunter. How he was led to this way of life was unknown though.

But, maybe some people were interested in it:

As he was only three streets away from his hideout, a light suddenly popped out on his left. Most likely, someone was pointing a torchlight at him to blind his darkness-adapted eyes. He immediatly squared off, expecting people to be rushing over him. But nothing came.

His eyes slowly adapted to the powerful light and he could see what this unexpected passer-by looked like. Facing him was a middle-aged man with trousled gray hair and thin brown eyes. The most noticeable features of his getup was the steamy mug in his hand. This mug had a symbol on it but the difference of luminosity prevented him from reconizing it. The teenager thought about simply taking him out here and now, but the fact that the man didn't attack him yet probably meant that he wasn't hostil. Not for now at least.

"Good night my boy. Can you tell me what a growing young man like you is doing in this empty street at this hour of the morning?" The man talked with a confident voice.

"..." But the [growing young man] didn't answer.

But the person in front of him didn't seemed put off at all. Actually, he could swear he saw a smile expanding on the man's face.

"There's only one kind of person who would stay awake so late. Are you one of these person?"

The bounty hunter alarmed. He didn't expect the man to be a simple passer-by suddenly struck by curiosity, but the confidence in wich he asked his rethorical question was unnatural of someone disarmed facing a grim celebrity like him. The boy slowly raised his hand to catch the weapon hung on his back.

"Calm down, please; no need to wake up the neighborhood. Though, it might not be a problem for you, Silentium."

"..."

It didn't help the teenager to relax. He quickly pulled out Silent Execution and aimed at the man. But as he was about to shoot, the man had gotten near him and was deflecting the direction the sniper was pointing at with a walking stick. It was at this moment that the boy realized that all along, the man wasn't holding the torchlight in his hand.

"I said to calm down. I'm not here to fight with. In the first place, I came here to give you that." As he said that the man held out something to him.

"..."

It was a wade of notes. Was he here to buy his services? If so, he could have simply used COBWEB. Dealing directly with the committed killer meant more chances for the police to trace back to you if the said killer get caught.

"Come on, don't make this face. This is the payment for your job tonight. I am the one who hired you."

"...!"

When he checked, he noticed that the amount was indeed the one promised. But again, why would this man come until here to pay him when he could have done so through COBWEB?

"...?" The boy gave a quizzical look at the man.

"Mh? I said this was the first reason I came to meet you. Wich mean I have a second."

"..."

A second reason? It was a first for him. Usually, after paying him, the clients didn't want to ever hear about him again.

"But I should start by presenting myself: I am Ozpin, the actual headmaster of Beacon Academy."

"!"

A chill ran down his spine. Of course he knew about Beacon Academy! And he nearly killed their headmaster!

The boy slowly lowered his weapon and gave a suspicious stare to Ozpin. What would the director of a school forming Huntsmen have to do with a bounty hunter urban legend?

"Don't give me that look please. I'm here to make you an offer."

"..."

"What do you say you register at my academy starting this year?"

"...?"

What? This man employed him for a job, waited for him at 3pm and was nearly shot by him to make a bounty hunter teenager register to his school?!

It seemed unreal. And stupid too. If it wasn't for his usual lack of talking, the boy would probably have woke up the whole street by laughing. But an other part of him was…_considering the offering?_

Yes. Something deep inside him made him wonder: was this the solution he was looking for? Did Marian knew this could happen?

"So? What's your answer? Or, more interesting, what is your name?"

The dark blue-haired teenager stood motionless. Then, slowly, very slowly, he raised his arm to take of his scarf, and opened his mouth.

* * *

The Just Illusion

"Pant, pant."

Hunters, the warriors of peace.

They're known as world's greatest warriors, those whose ultimate goal is to protect the four kingdoms against the creatures of destruction, the Grimms. They represent the light of hope to face the darkness of despair that are the creatures of Grimm, humanity's passion for life.

"Pant, pant."

But all those paragons of fighting will started as mere teenagers, showing their determination and their progress in schools which the only purpose is to form the next generation of Huntsmen. Beacon Academy was one of these school. It's the most prestigious training facility of all Vale, and can brag about having form some of the strongest Huntsmen.

"Pant, pant."

But it still was a school nonetheless, wich means there still were classes; and bullies.

"Pant, pant."

"Come back here, you damn brat!"

"Ah, dammit!"

He couldn't keep the distance. It wasn't unusual for him to be bullied so he should be used to running, but in that case it proved itself quite meaningless. He was running through the school's garden pursued by at least three person -he didn't wait to check before starting running-. He had to trick them somehow to lose them.

Here! In front of him, two different paths showed up; he was far enough from his persecutors that they'd hesitate before choosing a way. And if they spreaded, it was even better for him. But, when he was about to take the right path, some of them appeared from it and rushed over him.

(Damn! I'm the tricked one!)

He had no choice but to take the left path. It didn't end there though: each time he reached a crossing, they miraculously managed to reduce his options. And he believed it would be better if they split up! At this rate he would soon be cornered.

And, indeed, he was cornered. They were pretty far from the buildings now, but it showed just how determined they were to catch him. They probably had a reason to do so -probably not a good one though- but it didn't make it anyless of a bad time.

"So" The leader of the group, Cré-huma, approached him quietly. " You thought you could run away, Limaille?"

Limaille was him of course. Cré-huma had a bad habit of persecuting him. At first, it just had been simple bullying but, with time, it became more and more violent. Limaille couldn't think of any reason for that, except that he just didn't like his face -again, not necessarily a good reason-.

"Come on, Cré, what do you want this time?" He tried to sound confident but even if it worked it wouldn't faze Cré-huma.

Beacon Academy was a fight-oriented school, which meant that the stronger you were, the more worshippers -or rivals- you'd have. On the other hand, the weaker you were and the more bullied by strong you would be. To Limaille, who it was made no difference; the strongs weren't good persons. They were arrogant, abusing of their power and payed no heed to how the weaks felt.

"I don't care about your excuses. I'm gonna make you regret for what happened in class." Cré-huma cracked his knucles. "You think just because you had a little more knowledge back then you could get cocky?"

"Ah, t-that?" Yep, definitly not a good reason. But he expected it more to be an excuse for his top-rank bully to let off steam on him.

Cré-huma raised his fist and was about to swing it down on Limaille's face. The latter intuitivelly closed his eyes and raised his arms to protect himself, but the hit never came.

As the rageful fist was about to pound on Limaille, someone shouted from behind the group:

"Hey! Watcha' doin' here!"

Everyone turned around and Limaille opened his eyes to look at the newcomer. It was a fairly tall boy with standing-up rust brown hair and a confidenceful stance. Strangely enough, he wasn't wearing the academy's uniform, but instead a full metal armor. With the actual heat of the summer, this guy must have been roasting inside it. In his right hand he was holding a banner-like object with a strange symbol on it.

"Huh?" Cré-huma seemed both relieved and angry. Relieved because he probably expected a teacher and angry because of the uninvited guest. "Mind your own business you! What do you want?!"

"Hey, kid!" He was talking to Limaille. "Are these guy bullying you?"

Limaille almost facepalmed; No! They were just about to wish him a happy birthday! But the newcomer looked dead serious, which made Limaille hesitate wether to answer honestly or not.

"I told you to mind your own stuff! You guys, learn him respect!"

"Looks like some people need to be taught about... justice!" The boy yelled out this last word, as if it was sensed to afriad them. It was quite the opposit, he looked like a clown for bringing up a concept like justice here.

A large part of the group slowly walked in the armored boy's direction, but the latter didn't show any hint of fear nor defiance. Suddenly, they all rushed over him with their fist up. But as they were only a few meter away from him, the rust-haired boy swiftly squat -which, given his getup, was quite impressive- and swung his banner lateraly athis oponents feet, brushing them.

He got up with the same confidence with which he called them out. Seeing this, Cré-huma lost his patience and took out his right-hand claws. He dashed over the righter of rights and tried to slam his fist -or ather his weapon- in his face. Surprisingly, instead of eveding the attack, the boy let go of his banner and grabbed Cré-huma's arm with both hands and an incredibly good timing. He greeted hi teeth and lifted Cré-huma to throw him away!

"You should know that nobody can defeat a hero!"

The bully flew on ten meters before landing with a loud noise.

"Haha! Nothing like the taste of Justice in the morning!"

Not seeing him getting up, the rest of the group fled as quickly as possible before this unknown oponent. When they were all gone with Cré-huma's unconcious body, the boy came up to Limaille.

"Are you all right?"

"I... guess? Who... who are you?"

"I am a hero!"

"Yeah, you kind of already stated it. But what are you doing here?"

"Oh yeah, I'm student of Beacon starting this year! But I didn't get my uniform yet."

"Wait. Starting this year?"

The [hero] nodded.

"But... isn't it in several months?"

"..."

An awkward silence followed. Limaille refused. He simply refused to believe that.

"Well, let's say I wanted to see it before but... I got lost and I came across you."

No. This idiot actually got lost. Limaille couldn't believe someone would do something such as an unanounced visit to Beacon to start with. This guy definitely was an idiot.

"..."

But a smile came across Limaille's face. He was good idiot; and a strong one with that. In the end, maybe all the strong people weren't bad.

"...So."

"?"

"Could you show me the way?"

"Follow me, [hero]."

* * *

**-If you actually readed through all of this trailer, thank you! Please, give your opinion! **


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